"What is it?" said Osman, with his softest smile, laying his hand on his friend's shoulder and regarding him fixedly. "Well, I should think you ought to know. Try to divine it!" Mohammed slowly shook his head. "By Allah, I am ignorant what it is, Osman!" "Well," said the latter, smiling, "I wish to speak of our departure with the troops." "What do you mean by that?" "What do I mean? The pacha, Cousrouf, has appointed me captain of the three hundred soldiers, and you my lieutenant." "He has done so, to be sure, but we of course decline the appointment," said Mohammed, shrugging his shoulders. "And why?" asked Osman, with an expression of profound astonishment. "Why? Well, my Osman, you surely cannot think of--" "I understand you," said Osman, nodding his head; "you mean I cannot think of accepting any such position as it would beseem a man of my rank to hold. But I feel myself in better health; it seems as though the thought of such a possibility had given me new strength and energy. Who knows, perhaps, the luxurious, effeminate life I have always led is the great cause of my ill-health and weakness; a new or adventurous life may do me good. It is often said that the greater part of disease is mere imagination. If one shakes this off, he shakes his disease off with it. Therefore, I have decided to try this remedy myself. After full consideration, I have concluded to accept the position of captain of our troops." "You are really in earnest!" exclaimed Mohammed, springing to his feet in alarm. "You will actually take this position of captain, go to the war, and leave as!" "Leave us? " repeated Osman. "No, we two, of course, remain together, my friend. You go with me. You are selected as my lieutenant. You know Cousrouf Pacha added words of praise and acknowledgment for you, too." Mohammed's eye glittered for a moment, but he looked down quickly. "Yes, he did this, and his conduct is very noble and generous, for he well knows that I do not love him, and that I was once his enemy." "Once," repeated Osman, closely regarding his friend. "But that was a long while ago, and we have done with the dreams of our youth long since, have we not, Mohammed? What then was, has passed away. He no longer thinks of the childlike defiance you displayed toward him, the great pacha; and the sorrow and suffering he caused you are long since forgotten." "Yes," replied Mohammed, in low tones, "yes, it is forgotten. All sorrow and suffering are over. You are right. All things pass away, and time heals all wounds-mine, too. They are healed. Cousrouf has forgotten the boy's defiance, as you say, and you observe that what I have suffered at his hands is also forgotten. But I shall not leave this place-I may not."